


Just Breathe

by Cobrilee



Series: A Very Sterek Christmas [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Derek has anxiety because Stiles has anxiety, M/M, stiles has anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Derek and Stiles' wedding day. Stiles is freaking out. Derek is freaking out because Stiles is freaking out. And then they remember to breathe. Sequel to Got Your Six.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all. It's done. A Very Sterek Christmas is over, and I'm both relieved (goodbye pressure to write a ficlet a day!) and sad (goodbye, fluffy short sweet Sterek ficlets :/). I hope you've enjoyed reading this series as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and thank you especially to those who've reviewed. It means a lot to me.

Stiles stood in his room- _their_ room-practically shaking with anxiety. He couldn’t believe this was about to happen. Everything was going to change, and the idea of it had his stomach roiling to the point that he wondered idly if he was going to throw up on his wedding day. That would just be the perfect icing on the cake-except no, wait, there was actually going to be cake and he didn’t want to think about vomit and cake and best to stop this train of thought right now.

Inhaling a shuddery breath, he stared at himself in the mirror. He barely recognized the person looking back at him. His hair was artfully spiked and styled, courtesy of Lydia, who had threatened him within an inch of his life if he showed up to his own wedding with messy hair. Or, well, hair that wasn’t specifically styled to be messy. Shockingly, he hadn’t protested when she’d plunked him down on the toilet in his and Derek’s sumptuous bathroom and tugged at his hair, threading her goop-covered fingers through it while plucking and pulling, her eyes a study in concentration. He’d simply stared at her, unable to comprehend that she was styling his hair, _for his wedding_.

“You realize you’ve ruined Christmas for the rest of us, right?” she’d said off-handedly, and he’d looked up at her blankly, having no earthly idea what she was talking about. “We’re all going to spend our Christmases wondering if we’re going to get a ring, and then tying the knot a year later. We’re all going to want your fairy tale and happily-ever-after.”

“Blame Derek,” he’d said, attempting to cover up his nerves with a joke, but she’d simply smirked and gone back to wiggling her fingers through the strands of his hair to separate them, her eyebrows drawing together while she fought to get it to cooperate.

Then she was done, shoving him into his room to get into his tux, and holy crap if that didn’t unnerve him. He’d never worn a tux before, and he felt like a little kid playing dress-up. It didn’t feel real. So when he caught sight of the man in the mirror, the one who looked pretty fucking hot in his jet-black tux with the graphite-colored cummerbund, the one who was getting ready to marry the love of his life, he wondered, just for a split-second, who he was looking at. And then he remembered, and he had to grip the edges of the dresser to keep from falling over. They were getting _married_. 

lllll

Derek swallowed dryly past the lump in his throat as he studied his reflection from the full-length mirror Lydia had insisted on for their guest bedroom. He’d never thought overmuch about his looks, at least not since the fire; he’d been spoiled by the attention of men and women alike, and he knew how to turn on the charm and use it as a weapon when it was called for, but it was just that, a tool. It didn’t matter to him what he looked like. He rarely thought about it. But today… Today he wanted to be everything Stiles saw in him. He wanted to be the second-most-gorgeous man in the world.

Stiles being the first, of course.

Derek sank down onto the bed, knowing he was rumpling the jewel-toned comforter that matched his sapphire cummerbund. Stiles had insisted; the color matched his eyes when he was in wolf form and it was his favorite. Derek had protested, saying Stiles should have the blue one to match his ring, but Stiles had crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly and shook his head contrarily. Derek hadn’t been able to say no to him.

That was a thing with them.

Stiles had wanted their wedding held in their home, with their friends and family, on the anniversary of the date Derek had sort-of proposed to him. It hadn’t mattered to him that it was Christmas and every year their anniversary would fall on the worst day ever to try to make it all about themselves. He’d mentioned off-handedly that it was the day they’d become a family, and he wanted to share that with the family they would build as the years progressed. The thought had twisted in Derek’s stomach, the anxiety building until he felt like he was going to traumatize all of them by running away and just abandoning everything. The way the old Derek would have.

And then Stiles had smiled at him, leaned in and kissed his lips lightly, and murmured, “I love you,” and that had been it. Derek had relaxed, his heart steadying and catapulting over itself at the same time, and nodded his agreement that their wedding would be on Christmas.

Now, as he looked at himself and saw the man who he could, objectively, say was probably the second-most-gorgeous man in the world, he felt himself relaxing. This was the day he’d been waiting for for years. He’d known before he and Stiles were ever officially together that he wanted to marry him; it had scared the ever-loving hell out of him, but that absolute certainty about something he’d never had the slightest bit of confidence in before was what had convinced him to finally kiss Stiles that day. And they’d never looked back.

A grin curled the corner of his mouth, spreading slowly until the smile took over his entire face. They were getting _married_.

lllll

“You ready?” Scott asked, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, rocking back on his heels as he studied the barely-held-together mess that was his best friend. “Or are you going to throw up?”

“Don’t mention that,” Stiles mumbled, dropping his head into his hands and starting to tunnel his fingers through the gelled strands. Lydia scowled at him and batted his hands away from his hair, and he smirked at her before returning his attention to Scott. “It’s a cake thing.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to understand that,” Scott laughed. “But you do realize they’re going to start playing music here in about five minutes and then you’re going to have to walk down those stairs without actually falling down them, right?”

Stiles paled. “What on earth was I thinking, having my entrance be from the stairs? I’m going to miss a step, trip, and roll down them until I land at the bottom with a splat.”

“It would certainly be a memorable entrance,” Lydia said lightly. “Just don’t land on your head. I put too much effort into your hair to have it ruined.”

He made a face at her. “Thanks for your concern, Lyds. Love you too.”

“Stiles, you’re going to be fine,” Scott promised, sitting on the bed next to his friend and clasping his shoulder reassuringly. “This is Derek. You’ve loved him for forever. You want to spend the rest of your life with him.”

“So just breathe,” Lydia added. “Because I guarantee once you see him, you’re going to forget how.”

Scott made a waving motion at her, gesturing for her to shut up. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“Breathe,” she said again, firmly. She checked her watch and grabbed Scott’s hand, pulling him toward the door. “Time for us to get downstairs and into position. The ceremony’s about to start.”

And just like that they were gone, and Stiles was staring at the door Lydia had shut behind them, and he was wondering if he’d _really_ break his neck if he jumped out of his bedroom window. 

lllll

Derek stood by the fireplace, his breaths coming in shallow bursts, his palms clammy as he tried to surreptitiously wipe them on his tuxedo pants. The inky black material was soft and absorbed the moisture, but he still wished the whole thing was just _over_ already and he could stop being so anxious about it. 

Not that he was anxious about getting married. He just wanted to _be_ married. He wanted to not be on display in front of all their family and friends, he wanted that ring on his finger, and he wanted Stiles to be his _husband_. If he’d had his way, they would have gone to the Beacon Hills courthouse and been done with it. The wedding didn’t matter even a little. Except it did to Stiles, and _that_ was what mattered to Derek.

Then the music began and his heart started pounding in triple-time, erratic and wild and all over the place. He saw Isaac smirk at him and he fought to keep his features even instead of casting his former beta the dark look of annoyance that threatened to spill over. Of course the wolves in attendance knew just exactly how nervous he was.

He wanted this to be over because he was afraid, just a little bit, that Stiles wasn’t going to come down those stairs.

Derek wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen how Stiles was freaking out in the days leading up to the wedding. Writing it off as pre-wedding jitters was the natural thing to do, and Derek was still certain that was all it was. Stiles was afraid of the status quo changing. They’d been together for three and a half years and everything was great, and who knew what marriage would do to their relationship? Would it ruin everything? Would it make it better? Why change anything?

Derek could read his fiancé’s chaotic mind like a book. Which was why, at this moment, he couldn’t help wondering if Stiles had chosen to jump out their bedroom window instead of walk down those stairs.

Then the music ended, and Scott and Lydia were standing beside him, and everyone looked at the stairs. And Derek prayed.

As the wedding march began to play, Derek held his breath. He continued to hold it while he waited for Stiles to appear, which didn’t seem to be happening. He held his breath so long he realized he was on the verge of passing out. Just as he was about to fall over, Stiles rounded the bottom curve of the staircase, and smiled. And Derek breathed.

lllll

Stiles wasn’t sure how he was able to make it to the point in the stairs just before it curved and he was supposed to step in front of everyone, at least not without falling. He assumed it was because he’d been clutching at the walls and banister so tightly his whole hand went white, but still. His lack of grace knew no bounds. Made it down he had, though, and now it was time to take that step around the corner. 

The music stopped, then began again, and Stiles took a quick, steadying breath. Then another. And then, because apparently he was a coward who was afraid to take that next step, another breath. And then he began to feel a little light-headed, and he leaned in to the wall until the wave of dizziness passed. 

He had no idea why he was freaking out, except that everything was going to change. He’d been so damn happy when Derek kind-of proposed, had been thrilled with the idea of spending the rest of their lives together. Then he realized they didn’t need marriage to do that. They were already going to spend the rest of their lives together, and a ring and a piece of paper wasn’t going to change that. Except… maybe it would. Maybe the permanence of being married would create stress that hadn’t been there before. Maybe being married would change them, somehow. Why would he want to change what was already perfect?

But he loved Derek, and he really did _want_ to be married to him. And he knew Derek wanted it. So he’d repressed the anxiety until it boiled over, of course about an hour before he was supposed to be actually making a lifetime commitment.

Inhaling deeply, Stiles straightened up and squared his shoulders. He _would_ get over it. He would _do_ this. And he would be _happy_.

When he took that next step and turned the corner, the only thing he saw was Derek. Nobody else existed. And the wave of pure joy and love that washed over him eliminated any trace of doubt or “maybe” from his mind. He smiled. And he breathed.

**Author's Note:**

> I was initially going to write through the end of the ceremony, with their vows and a description of Derek's ring. And then I got to the point where this ends and thought, "No, that's it. That's all I really need. Anything else would be too much." 
> 
> Merry Christmas, my fellow Sterek shippers. May the next season bring Derek Hale back to us-that's all I could ever want for Christmas.


End file.
